


the perfect gift

by thefudge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Presents, F/M, Tattoos, a lil bit of smut, first fic of the year hehe, fluffy holiday fic, prompt, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: “It was supposed to be your birthday gift,” she mumbled, cheeks aflame. “But it didn’t turn out right. I don’t know why I thought it would. I’m an idiot.”Jim stared and stared and stared. (holiday prompt)
Relationships: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 16
Kudos: 102





	the perfect gift

**Author's Note:**

> written for my fluffy holiday fic challenge (https://thefudge.tumblr.com/post/189391284698/fluffy-holiday-fic-prompts), prompt 9: the perfect gift.  
> full disclosure: i love molliarty, but i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing them, so idk if this turned out right, but i sure had fun! sorry if it's sort of silly lol, but i can't picture them any other way.  
> happy new year!

Molly pressed the ice-pack to her chest. She kept wiping at her eyes, forcing the tears back in. 

She wouldn’t cry over this. She refused to surrender more of her dignity. It had already been stomped on repeatedly for the day. 

Toby sat on the coffee table, swishing his tail back and forth in contempt.

Molly stuck out her lower lip. “Not a word from you.” 

Oh, God, why had she done it? Why had she thought it would be a good idea?

It was even more embarrassing, because she, supposedly,  _ had  _ a medical degree. 

She, of all people, ought to have known better. What had possessed her to be so reckless? She was rarely adventurous. When asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she’d confidently told the teacher “I don’t want to leave the house”, even if that wasn’t really an answer. 

Molly was actually contemplating never leaving the house. She could die a slow death, eaten by her cat. 

She was so consumed by her angst that she didn’t hear the lock turn or the consulting criminal stroll into her apartment. 

“Mollikins! We’re going to be laaaate. You’d better not be in your jammies -”

Jim paused at the sight of his mousy pathologist, puffy-eyed and distraught and half-naked on the couch. 

In the first moment, he thought someone had actually  _ hurt  _ her, and his expression turned feral. It was impressive - how quickly his facial muscles turned him into another  _ species _ . He was going to bite someone’s head off, literally.

“Molls. Name. Now.” 

Molly hid her face in her hands. “It’s not what you think…”

Jim tugged at his tie. “I’m giving you five seconds before I start with your neighbours. First door on the left?”

Molly cry-laughed. “Not Mr. Henderson! The poor man is over seventy.”

“He’s lived a good, long life.”

Molly could see that Jim was quite serious. He usually was. Even when he was playing at being a child, he always stayed alert, in case an opportunity for violence presented itself. Wasn’t that most children, anyway?

She decided she couldn’t let an old man die.

Molly heaved a sigh and removed the towel from her chest. 

Jim’s face underwent another quick transformation. His eyes widened comically. 

Molly wasn’t sure how to catalog that look. He was rarely, if ever, caught off-guard. Was this what surprise looked on him?

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift,” she mumbled, cheeks aflame. “But it didn’t turn out right. I don’t know why I thought it would. I’m an idiot.”

Jim stared and stared and  _ stared _ .

He couldn’t quite believe it. 

His initials were tattooed crudely on each breast. 

A “J” on the left tit, an “M” on the right one. 

The skin was red and puckered and deeply mortified, and the letters were not proportioned very well. He’d have to send Seb to pay that tattoo artist a visit. 

But. 

Holy fuck. 

Was she delectable. 

He caught himself drooling. 

“It looks stupid, doesn’t it?”

Jim’s dick twitched in disagreement. The primitive part of himself that was so  _ rarely  _ satisfied with the empty tugs of war of the civilized world was  _ utterly  _ besotted with the idea of putting his mark on her. Signaling to the whole world that she was his. 

“Did it hurt, pet?” he asked, throat dry.

Molly nodded miserably. “So badly. I almost passed out. I had to bite down on my leather belt. The one with the dalmatians. I broke it. It was my favorite.” 

Jim clenched his jaw. He wanted nothing more than to watch her break belts with her teeth. He was almost angry that he hadn’t been there to witness it.

Meanwhile, Molly was moping. She had no clue how  _ scrumptious  _ she was, even when she was being a sweet little dolt. 

“We’ll get you another one. As many belts as you like,” he said, shrugging off his coat and letting it fall on a chair. 

“Oh, why was I so stupid? I could have gotten you something  _ nice  _ -”

Jim Moriarty walked up to her and knelt before the couch.

Molly blinked in shock. He’d never prostrated before. 

“Wha-”

“Mollikins. This is not  _ nice _ . This is a work of art,” he purred.

“You - you like it?”

“I  _ love  _ it. It’s the most perfect gift. The best gift anyone’s ever given me. And I was once offered the Sistine Chapel.”

Molly didn’t want to know how  _ that  _ had happened. It sounded like a lie, but she could never be sure with Jim. He was just that good. 

“Do you really mean it?”

Jim cupped her breasts, one in each hand. He brought them close to his mouth, eyes stark with hunger. “Let me show you.” 

His mouth on her scarred flesh made her gasp and almost reel back, but his grip on her was strong, and very soon she forgot all about the pain as he expertly traced the letters with his tongue, soothing her, making her curl her toes as he lapped at her nipples until they were pebble-hard. She ran her hand through his hair, mussing it up. The consulting criminal had killed for much less, but Jim only groaned, happy to devour her tits. Well,  _ his  _ tits now. He grinned. 

Molly leaned her head back with a throaty moan. 

Maybe this stupid tattoo had been worth it, after all.

She suddenly remembered something he’d said. “W-Wait, you said we’d be late to dinner?” 

Jim paused, looked up at her with mischief. “What do you think  _ this  _ is, love?” 

Molly didn’t argue, after that. 

She was happy to be his four course meal. 

Next time, she thought blissfully, maybe she’d get his full name inked between her thighs. 

  
  



End file.
